Knowing you can always count on me
by Maid Marian
Summary: COMPLETE: This is another scenario of how Aragorn and Legolas meet and go from rivalry to friendship in 3 chapters. If you like it let me know - I've an idea for another story and need encouragement to write it.
1. Knowing you can always count on me

Disclaimery thingy: They're not mine, I'm just using Tolkien's hunkiest characters as my creative inspiration.   
  
Here is one scenario of how Aragorn and Legolas first met - absolutely no torture or angst and only a minor bit of pain, but don't let that put you off. Hope you enjoy it. If I get too many flamers, I shall take my story and go home!   
  
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Aragorn arose with the birds. Leaving the twins sleeping, he strolled down to the river to wash the sleep from his eyes. The sun had not long arisen over the horizon and a smell of morning dew held the promise of another warm summer's day.   
  
Had his senses been fully awake, Aragorn may have heard the light footsteps as they approached behind him. But then again, even the Ranger's enhanced skills would have had difficulty with these particular feet. As it was, Aragorn remained blissfully unaware of the stranger's presence as he bent down to the cool river to wash. Suddenly the peace of the morning was interrupted as an arrow ripped through the air, grazing his cheek and almost toppling him head first into the water.   
  
Aragorn's senses were swiftly awakened at this sudden intrusion, and the shiver of pain that shot through his body. He swiftly grabbed for the short dagger he wore at his belt and turned to face his attacker. A strange elf stood before him, bow armed with a deadly arrow pointed straight at Aragorn's racing heart.  
  
'Drop your weapon human, or my next shot will do more permanent damage.' The elf's voice carried a tone that made it clear that this order was not up for discussion. Aragorn had no compunction to argue and tossed his dagger at his aggressor's feet, anxious to avoid a misunderstanding escalating into something more. Judging by his attire this elf was from Thranduil's realm. He worn the distinctive browns and greens of the wood eldar and unlike the Nodor of Rivendell this one had hair the colour of morning sun.  
  
'What is a man doing alone in Mirkwood?' demanded the elf. Aragorn replied calmly and truthfully. 'I am not alone, friend elf. My brothers and I are emissaries from Rivendell, bearing a message from Lord Elrond to King Thranduil.' Aragorn adopted a non-threatening pose, his hands raised and his head inclined slightly in a gesture of respect.  
  
'Then, trouble yourself no further, human. Give me the message and I'll ensure that the King receives it.'  
  
'So, you have the ear of the king?' replied Aragorn. He was becoming annoyed with the elf and did not take kindly to his arrogant tone. He took a small step forward in defiance. The elf did not waver, although an amused smile graced his flawless features. 'Some say, I have both the king's ears'.  
  
As quick as it appeared the elf's smile was gone as his head snapped towards an unheard sound over Aragorn's shoulder. A fraction of a second later an audible voice came from the same direction. 'Aragorn where are you hiding?'. Aragorn tentatively turned to look behind him as the voice was joined by the physical presence of Elrohir. When he looked back to where the strange elf had stood, although it was but a second later, he was gone and Aragorn's dagger had gone with him.  
  
'Good morning, Aragorn' greeted his brother slapping him heartily on his back as he approached, 'When you have finished beautifying yourself, we need to clear camp'. As Aragorn turned back to his brother, a puzzled frown was evident on his dark features. It was the blood on his cheek however that drew Elrohir's attention. 'My goodness Aragorn, have you cut yourself shaving again? You really ought to be more careful with sharp objects.'  
  
'I didn't cut myself shaving. I was shot at by a wood elf.' To punctuate his statement, Aragorn pulled the wounding arrow from the trunk of a nearby tree where it had embedded itself. Elrohir stifled a laugh, highly amused by the look on his brother's face and his indignant attitude.  
  
'What are you smiling at brother? An inch to the left and he would have killed me!'  
  
'Dear brother, you were in no danger' calmed Elrohir, 'the arrows of the wood elves always fly true. If he had wanted you dead, you would be. He was probably just playing.'  
  
'Playing?!!' Aragorn's ire was rapidly rising. 'The blasted elf stole my knife - what kind of game is that?'  
  
'When we get to Mirkwood, you can find him and ask him'. Come on let's clean you up and get back to camp. Elladan will be in a foul temper if he is left to clear up by himself, and I can't cope with two grumpy brothers.  
  
***  
  
Later that day, the three companions sat in regal splendour drinking fine wine with the King of Mirkwood. Both Elladan and Elrohir had visited Mirkwood many times throughout their long lives and felt quite at home, but for Aragorn this was a first. It made no difference to their hosts however, and he was made as welcome as his brothers amongst their kindred. If it wasn't for the dawn encounter the sentiment would have been returned. As it was Aragorn remained on edge, keeping half an eye out for the roguish elf who had possession of his knife. Subconsciously he raised his hand to his face where his cheek still stung from the strike of the arrow. The movement drew the attention of Thranduil.  
  
'Are you wounded Estel?' he asked using Aragorn's elfish pseudonym. 'Perhaps one of my healers could look at that for you, it looks nasty.'  
  
'T'is nothing my'lord' replied Aragorn with slight embarrassment. 'There is no need to trouble your healers' Aragorn cast a glance towards Elrohir just catching the tail end of a grin on his brother's face as it was quickly hidden. 'I cut myself shaving'. The grin reappeared.   
  
The rest of the day passed by uneventfully. The Rivendell visitors, ate, bathed and rested after their long journey and as night fell they were welcomed at a feast in their honour.  
  
Entering the grand forest ballroom, Aragorn was taken aback by the number of elves that it contained. He had barely seen a dozen inhabitants of Mirkwood all day and now here they all were, dressed in their finest clothes and whirling around the dance floor to the most exquisite music he had ever heard. Their faces were illuminated by hundreds of lanterns hung from the branches of trees, and their feet stirred the lavender and lilac that was scattered over the dance floor, creating a intoxicating fragrance as they did so. Like the stranger in the woods that morning, the elves were fair and his raven-haired foster-brothers stood out in stark contrast as they moved amongst them. If the elves of Rivendell drew attention, it was insignificant in comparison to that given to the man as his kind were rarely allowed within Thranduil's realm. Yet Aragorn was oblivious to the gazes he attracted, as he remained watchful for one particular elf. As it happened, he didn't have to wait long.  
  
The King was standing near the entrance to the ballroom talking with a group of courtiers. He had the vantage point and ceased his conversation as Aragorn entered.  
  
'Welcome Estel. I trust you are well rested for you will need your energy this night. I do believe several young maidens are already wanting to dance with you'   
  
Aragorn laughed. 'Perhaps glass of wine first your majesty to wake me up.'  
  
At that point another voice joined the conversation. 'Then do not delay, I hear human's have exceedingly slow senses when not fully awake.' The elf who had spoken turned to face Aragorn with a graceful smile. For his part, Aragorn was struck dumb with the realisation that this elf was the very one he sought, although if it wasn't for his jest he may not have recognised him so easily. Gone was the garb of the hunter and in its stead was a tunic wrought of fine silk clearly marking this elf as a figure of some importance.   
  
The king place a hand on each of his companions' shoulders and looked from one to the other, 'Aragorn, allow me to introduce my son, Legolas'.  
  
Legolas extended his hand in the traditional elvish greeting. After a moment's hesitation Aragorn returned it. Prince or no prince, he thought to himself, we have unfinished business. However, his respect for the king stayed his hand - at least for the time being.  
  
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Please Review!!! 


	2. For sure

Disclaimer: see chapter 1.  
  
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CHAPTER TWO: FOR SURE  
  
'Come, let's eat.' Said Thranduil as he guided his son and the ranger towards the banqueting table. Following their king's lead, soon the entire company were seated around both sides of a large, horseshoe table that was groaning under the weight of fresh fruits, breads and game.  
  
The king sat between Aragorn and Legolas on the outside of the table with the twins facing them from the inside.  
  
The meal was delicious, helped along by the wine that flowed freely. No sooner had a cup been drained, it was refilled. Aragorn passed much of the meal in conversation with the king and with the elf maidens who sat nearby. He could not help but notice however, that their attention was being drawn to the prince as he kept the twins amused with tales of what had happened in Mirkwood since their last visit.   
  
The prince addressed the twins. 'How does Arwen fare?' he asked.  
  
'She asked that we convey her fond regards to you,' replied Elladan. Aragon inexplicably felt his hackles rise at this turn in the conversation. That Arwen, should hold this arrogant elf in high regard made him strangely jealous.   
  
'Father, keeps hinting at a union between the houses of Rivendell and Mirkwood' said Elladan casting Legolas a mischievous grin.  
  
'What, and be related to that old goat?' declared Thranduil in mock alarm.   
  
'I do not think I could survive a union with your sister,' said Legolas remembered all the bruises and indignities he had suffered at her hands in the past. Not having knowledge of this shared history, Aragorn took the comment to mean that Legolas thought he was too good for her. This was getting too much. He reached over and grabbed his cup of wine. In doing so, he suddenly became aware that he still carried Legolas' arrow in his pocket. He had intended to make some discrete enquiries to ascertain to whom it belonged. Now he knew its tenure, he had an idea.  
  
He pulled the arrow from his pocket and addressed the king. 'I wonder your majesty, if you know to whom this belongs. I came across it yesterday and it would be a pity not to return such a finely crafted weapon to its owner.'  
  
The question had the desired effect. Aragorn was sure he saw the prince flinch as his father took the arrow and examined it. He turned to his son. 'I do believe this is one of your arrows is it not Legolas?' Legolas took it from is father. There was no denying its ownership. 'Yes it is indeed one of mine. I thank the ranger for returning it to me'. If he had hoped the matter would rest there, he was wrong.   
  
'You really should take more care of your weapons, Legolas.' Said Thranduil, then of Aragorn he asked 'How came you across it'.   
  
There was a silence. The king looked at Aragorn expectantly, Legolas looked at him in alarm and the twins looked at each other in trepidation of the conflict to come.   
  
Aragorn enjoyed watching the prince squirm for a moment longer. 'I found it embedded in a tree when I was searching for my lost hunting knife.' The look that passed from Aragorn to Legolas did not go unnoticed by the king. He looked at the arrow now laying on the table, then to Aragorn, mentally making the connection between the ranger's facial wound and the archer's weapon. 'Really?' he asked rhetorically. And there it was left. The prince and the twins visibly relaxed and everyone reached for their drinks in synchronisation.   
  
***  
  
It felt like a dragon had made a nest in his head and it sounded like one was trying to get out by bashing a hole though his skull. He pulled a pillow over his head to try and smother it. The banging got louder.  
  
'Aragorn are you still asleep?'  
  
'Argghhh' groaned the ranger, realising that it was Elladan, or possibly Elorhir, making the infernal racket. 'Go away!'   
  
Unperturbed The door swung open and both the twins came piling into the room, throwing themselves onto their brother's bed.   
  
'Argghhhhh - please go away and let me die in peace'.   
  
'What, when the sun is shining so brightly?' questioned Elladan, he gestured to what loosely passed for a window. 'No, you can't die today'.  
  
Blasted elves, thought Aragorn. Last night they had seemed to consume vast quantities of alcohol without becoming the slightest bit inebriated. What possessed Aragorn to think that he could do the same was at this moment quite beyond him. The dragon started flying around his head again. 'Argggghhhh'.   
  
The door to the room opened and two elves entered carrying silver platters of forest fruits and freshly baked bread. 'Ah breakfast' said Elladan as he reached up to take a roll of the platter before the server had a chance to put it down. Elrohir looked into a cup carried by the second elf and grimaced at the green liquid contained inside.   
  
'It is Hocur' stated the Mirkwood elf. Legolas sent it for the human. He said that the man could not take his drink and might have need of medicine.'  
  
'He's not going to like that', Elorhir wafted the air in front of his nose and headed to a sweeter smelling part of the room. Elladan took his place. He took the cup and dismissing its bearer, carried it to the lump in the bed.  
  
'Sit up Aragorn and drink this. It will speed your recovery.'  
  
A grumble emerged from under the pillow, which Elladan could just make out to be 'I don't want anything from that condescending, knife-stealing elf', punctuated with a few extra expletives.   
  
Running out of patience with his brother Elladan signalled for Elrohir's help. Between them the twins wrestled away the pillow and bed coverings from Aragorn and forced the reluctant ranger into a half sitting position. Elladan thrust the cup to his face 'Hocur - drink'. Aragorn opened one eye sheepishly and glanced into the cup. The smell itself was enough to turn his stomach. Could it be that Legolas was trying to poison him? No, if he had wanted him dead, he would be already. Ever the pragmatist, Aragorn reasoned that nothing could make him feel worse than he did right now and this 'Hocur' might just work. Holding his head in one hand, just to make sure the dragon didn't force its way out while he wasn't paying attention and taking the cup with the other, Aragorn gulped down the putrid liquid. 'Urgghhh.'   
  
'Well, that's an improvement on Arggghhhh, I suppose' said Elorhir.  
  
***  
  
Whatever was in the hocur, it certainly did the trick. Aragorn's hangover quickly dissipated and he felt remarkably healthy and alert as he strolled down to the practice field with the twins. The 'field' turned out to be little more than a clearing in the woods. At the far end, amongst the trees a line of straw figures had been erected and, to Aragorn's chagrin, dressed in a manner not dissimilar to the attire favoured by rangers and men. At the other end of the field the prince himself stood alongside an older elf, possibly his mentor. The trio stopped to observe as in one fluid movement Legolas strung two arrows to his bow and let them fly towards his target. The first arrow struck the heart of one straw man; the next embedded itself into the arm of a second on the other side of a tree.   
  
It was a remarkable shot, yet the prince was clearly disappointed. 'I think I misjudged the changing wind direction' he suggested to his companion.   
  
'That might be it, or it could be that your aim was slightly off' came the reply although obviously said in jest.   
  
The trio who had been watching approached. 'You still trying to master the old two arrows at once trick Legolas?' asked Elladan.   
  
In reply, Legolas rapidly fired off a succession of double shots creating two perfectly parallel lines of arrows in a nearby tree. 'The problem, my friend, is splitting the arrows to take out two targets more than 6 feet apart. Do you want to try?' he asked.  
  
'Not, I' said Elladan, my skill with a bow is no match for Mirkwood's finest archer.   
  
'Perhaps Aragorn would like to try' the prince held out his bow to the man. After a moment's hesitation, Aragorn accepted the bow. 'It is a fine weapon' said Aragorn admiring its craftsmanship.  
  
'Amongst my people, it is a tradition that warriors are presented with a gift on reaching maturity. Not merely maturity of age, or of skill, but when it is grasped how to live a compassionate and moral existence in the midst of blood and darkness. This was a gift from my father.' Aragorn nodded although he did not truly understand. It did seem strange that an elf that attacked him unprovoked, and stole his knife, was talking to him of morals and compassion. He would speak of the knife again later.   
  
Legolas handed him a single arrow and pointed to a target that was set well back amongst the trees. 'See the straw man in the hat? It is a hot day, he has not need of it.' Aragorn nodded and notching his arrow took aim and released the projectile. To his credit it struck the straw man but considerably lower than his head. 'Well, you certainly would have ended his chances of fatherhood' smiled Elrohir.  
  
Legolas did not comment. He handed Aragorn another arrow. 'Try again'. Aragorn notched the second arrow and placed the target in his sights. Legolas came up beside him and adjusted the position of a finger on the bowstring, and raised the man's chin a fraction. 'Now listen and feel for the movements in the air. Let your senses guide you.' Aragorn closed his eyes and fancied that he could see the path of the wind between him and the target. He breathed in, opened his eyes and took the shot. The arrow hit the straw man directly between what would have been his eyes. The hat however remained firmly on his head. He handed the bow back to its owner. 'You need more practice' said the prince 'just a couple of thousand years or so'. Then to show what his 2000 years of training had achieved, Legolas sent the hat soaring into the air and punctured it with the three remaining arrows in his quiver before it could hit the ground. Legolas handed his weapon to the steward who took his leave and headed off to retrieve the spent arrows.   
  
Aragorn spied two wooden staffs leaning up against a nearby tree. He picked one up and gave a few practice swings. It was an elegant weapon, and although heavier than he expected, it felt comfortable and well balanced in his hands.  
  
'Hey Thrandullion, let's see what you can do with this' he tossed the second staff to Legolas which he caught easily.  
  
'Oh no,' sighed the twins in unison. 'This will not end well'.   
  
'Do not worry, my cousins. I will go easy on him.' Legolas smiled.   
  
Aragorn faced his foe square on, adjusted his weight and waited for the prince to make the first move. Legolas, held his own staff casually in one hand but there was nothing casual about the look in his eyes. Aragorn had been around elves long enough to know that an attack was imminent and when it came it would be fast. It was. Aragorn felt the strike of the princes' staff against his own before he saw it coming, but he was ready and deflected the blow easily to return it with one of his own. His weight gave him some advantage over the lean elf and was delighted when Legolas momentarily lost his composure and was driven back a step. Any advantage he gained was quickly lost when the elf swung the staff in a low arc forcing Aragorn to leap into the air to avoid his legs being knocked out from under him. In retaliation he swung his own staff at the princes' head only to strike air as the elf deftly rolled to one side and came up behind the ranger landing a blow across his back. Aragorn spun around and thanks to his well-honed reflexes was able to grab the end of Legolas' weapon in one hand as it was about to crack open his skull. The prince allowed himself a smile before he twisted under Aragorn's arm and used the staff as leverage to throw him over his shoulder to lie in an undignified heap at his feet.  
  
The prince stood leaning on his staff, highly amused at the sight of the man lying winded on the ground. He reached down a hand to pull Aragorn to his feet. That was his fatal mistake. In a movement that rivalled anything that the elves were capable of, Aragorn pulled on Legolas' arm with all his might and used his booted feet to catapult the prince over his head. The prince hit the ground with a mighty thud and let out a gasp of pain. Aragorn pushed home the advantage leaping to his feet and thrusting the end of the staff down towards Legolas' face. He stopped with an inch to spare. 'Yield!' He demanded. Legolas eyes were squeezed tightly shut and no words would come from his mouth. Obviously in some pain, all the elf could manage was a feeble gesture with his left hand. It was enough. The prince had yielded to the ranger.  
  
Aragorn turned his back on the fallen elf and looked to his brothers, but any adulation he was expecting did not materialise. The twins pushed past him towards the prince.   
  
'You have dislocated his shoulder,' Elladan scolded his foster-brother.  
  
Aragorn feeling suitably admonished kept his distance whilst his brothers put their field-medicine training into practice quickly snapping the prince's arm back into its socket. Until that moment Aragorn had not appreciated Legolas' extraordinary grasp of Westron curses.   
  
*****  
  
Later Aragorn stopped outside the prince's door and took a deep breath. He knocked. 'Enter ranger' came the reply from within.   
  
'Blasted elf' muttered Aragorn, 'can even see through doors'. He entered the room where Legolas was sitting being tended to by a one of the court healers 'It will be tender for a few days, milord, but there is no permanent damage' stated the physician as he tied off a sling around the prince's neck. The physician gave a respectful bow to Legolas and a casting a dismissive glare at Aragorn left the room,   
  
Legolas stood to acknowledge Aragorn's presence. 'Although we elves have excellent hearing and a well developed sense of smell, we have not yet mastered the art of seeing through solid objects.' This was said without humour and Aragorn didn't know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed that his comment had been overheard. Blasted elf-ears!   
  
He thought it best to simply say what he came to say and then leave as quickly as possible. 'Forgive me Legolas, I did not mean to hurt you'.  
  
Legolas sighed and placed his good arm on Aragorn's shoulder. 'There is nothing to forgive, Aragorn. I should not have underestimated you. You are a fine warrior.'   
  
Aragorn shrugged. 'It seems that you are intent on proving me otherwise'  
  
Legolas gave a sad smile. 'My people are diminishing and the darkness is growing. The fate of Middle Earth now lies in the hands of mankind. In you Aragorn, lies my people's hope for this land, our hope that all we have loved and fought for will continue and not fade with us. Are you Estel?'  
  
Aragorn was beginning to understand. He had been tested, to see if he was worthy of the name the elves had bestowed upon him. Estel - Hope. This was his legacy, although he did not want it. 'I do not know' Aragorn replied, 'but perhaps with the help of my friends, I can be.' Aragorn turned to leave. As he reached the door Legolas called him back. 'Aragorn...'  
  
As he turned back to face the prince he was met by a rush of air as a knife sliced past his head and embedded itself in the door frame. It was only when he turned to see it was his hunting knife quivering beside him that he realised it had nicked the top of his ear drawing blood.  
  
'A gift for you'   
  
Aragorn glared at the prince whose skill was clearly not diminished by having his good arm in a sling.   
  
'Whoops,' said Legolas 'I guess my aim is a little off this morning.' 


	3. That's what friends are for

Disclaimer: The characters you recognise belong to that Tolkien chappy. The others are mine.  
  
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PART THREE: THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR  
  
Aragorn had been summoned. With feelings of slight trepidation he knocked on the door of the king's private study and was bade enter.  
  
The king sat behind a large desk created by the branch of a living oak tree, which also formed the main strut supporting the roof. Birds flew freely above his head and parchment, ink and quills surrounded him.  
  
Thranduil gestured to one of two carved wooden chairs and Aragorn sat down. No sooner had he done so, then the door was opened again and Legolas joined them, his arm supported by a sling strapped closely to his body following the 'accident' earlier in the day.   
  
'Greetings father, you wanted to see me?' Seeing the parchments scattered around he added 'Drawing up battle plans again?'  
  
Thranduil was not amused. He raised his eyebrows and inclined his head towards Aragorn and the second chair. 'Uh-oh', said Legolas. The king had not spoken but it was clear that he was not best pleased. Aragorn and Legolas exchanged a fleeting glance as the prince obediently took his seat.  
  
The king stood up. 'I understand you were hurt this morning Legolas?'   
  
'It's nothing. It barely troubles me at all.'   
  
'Enough to require a sling, it seems.' He turned to Aragorn. 'And you, you also seem to be amassing a number of injuries recently'. Aragorn started to speak but the king raised a hand to silence him 'and don't go telling me that that cut were sustained shaving. I know an arrow wound when I see one.' He looked at Legolas as he spoke making it clear whom he held responsible for the ranger's facial injury. At least Legolas had the good sense to attempt to look contrite, although Aragorn severely doubted that he was in any way sorry for his actions.   
  
The king was not swayed by his son's pitiful look, he was just beginning his tirade and Aragorn had never seen an elf loose his temper quite as completely as Thranduil was about to demonstrate. The king leant across his desk slamming his fist down so hard that it caused the ceiling to shake and Aragorn to jump involuntarily. 'How could you be so irresponsible Legolas?' The prince didn't answer, as he knew from experience that no reply was expected, nor was he allowed the time to interject anyway. He met the blazing eyes of his father as he continued. 'I'm sure I don't need to remind you that these are dark times in Greenwood. I need to be sure that all of my warriors are fit for battle and not putting themselves out of action fighting petty squabbles!' His voice rose to a crescendo, 'and yet you . . . you think nothing of picking a fight with a. . . with a man no less!' He paused for breath and lowered his voice. 'Look at him Legolas' he gestured towards Aragorn 'he is but a child!'  
  
Aragorn felt affronted by this slight, his own ire was beginning to rise and strangely he felt an inclination to defend the prince, as it was he not Legolas, who had picked the fight. Legolas sensed Aragorn's mood next to him and caught his eye with a warning look giving a subtle shake of his head that served to hold Aragorn back.  
  
The king hadn't finished. 'Well, since you are not going to be of any use around here for a few days, Legolas, I'm sending you on an errand.' It dawned on Legolas what the piles of parchments on his father's desk were. 'Please, you would not have me deliver the trade agreements, Father?'   
  
'It is the least that you deserve. A couple of days amongst men will do you good - and you can take this one with you.' Aragorn's jaw dropped. When he was summoned he hadn't expect to be insulted then ordered off on some mission by the King of Mirkwood. The king glared at him. 'Something you wanted to say ranger?'   
  
It was reluctantly agreed that they would leave straight after the mid-day meal and aim to reach Mirkwood's southernmost outpost by nightfall. As Legolas headed off grumbling to sort out supplies for the journey, Aragorn was left behind to wait for the parchments.  
  
'You do not object to going with Legolas?' the king asked as he rolled the parchments and applied the royal seal. His countenance had returned to normal and anyone who hadn't witnessed it would not believe that this was the same elf that had the trees shaking only moments before. Aragorn didn't know how to reply. In truth he did not look forward to three days in the princes' company. He was not sure if the peace they had begun to forge that morning would last that long - especially if Legolas continued to scar him at every opportunity. But that was not an answer a father would wish to hear about his son and certainly not one to give to a king, particularly one prone to explosive outbursts. 'It was my fault he was injured this morning. If not for my companionship, the prince may be grateful for my protection.'  
  
The king laughed. 'Even with one arm incapacitated, Legolas is more than match for any man or beast on the road.' Aragorn was well aware of this fact after the incident with his knife and what was left of the tip of his right ear. 'Yet, your chivalry is to be admired.'  
  
The king sealed the last parchment and gathering them all together placed them in a bag and handed it to the ranger. 'Don't judge him too harshly Aragorn. He is an elf out of time.' Aragorn looked questioningly at the king. The king explained. 'Legolas came into this world too late for in his heart he is of the First Age. Had he lived then, I oft wonder if evil would have taken such a hold on Middle Earth. As it is, in this time of men he can only offer his fealty to such men that earn his respect. There are not many that can or will but I think you may be one of them.' This was an unexpected speech and one that would puzzle Aragorn for sometime to come. It seemed that the royal family of Mirkwood had expectations of him that he wasn't sure he could meet.  
  
***  
  
Just after the sun had passed its apex in the sky, the two companions rode out of the palace heading south. As soon as they were out of sight of the king and his healers, Legolas had shed his sling. He had also categorically refused to leave his bow behind even though with his strained shoulder he could not draw it without aggravating the injury further. When Aragorn had questioned him about the wisdom of his actions, the prince had replied that should they happen to meet any foes on the road, it wouldn't be wise to appear weak. Aragorn could see the logic of this statement but as the journey went on, he could not fail to notice how the elf was favouring his left arm and appeared to be in significant discomfort. Seeing this sent twinges of guilt through the ranger, not because Legolas hadn't deserved to brought down a peg or two, but because he had had to resort to dirty fighting tactics to achieve it and Aragorn had genuinely not intended to cause him any lasting pain. He was also still reeling from Thranduil's lecture. Having witnessed Legolas' fighting skill Aragorn didn't doubt the archer's skill would be sorely missed if Mirkwood was called upon to defend itself. He consoled himself with thoughts of the twins left in Mirkwood who would lend their not insufficient skills to Thranduil's army if need be.   
  
'The King was pretty angry.' He stated matter-of-factly.  
  
'Ai' replied Legolas without looking round.  
  
'Does he always turn purple like that?' Now he had Legolas' attention. He turned his head and looked at the ranger thoughtfully. Aragorn held his gaze sorely tempted to laugh but unsure of the prince's reaction.   
  
'No' Legolas' face was deadpan. He continued. 'Usually red is his favoured colour.' His face broke into a mischievous grin. 'I did observe, Aragorn, that your face also had a shade of puce about it when father referred to you as a child.'  
  
'I must admit to feeling a little annoyed at that' acknowledged Aragorn 'but I guess that in an elf's scheme of things, I am a little, shall we say young? You really ought to pick on someone your own age.'   
  
Legolas laughed 'Of course, you do realise that he was angrier with me for allowing a mere "child" to win the fight than any concern for your well-being?'  
  
Aragorn acknowledged that was probably true. 'Speaking of well-being Legolas, how is your shoulder?'  
  
'It troubles me not', came the reply that would have convinced most people but not the ranger whose experience with the healing arts had taught him to spot the nuances that gave away pain. A look in the eye, subtle loss of grace, a sharpening of breath, were often the only way to tell with an elf whose stubborn pride made him want to appear invincible. He was beginning to see that Legolas was a stubborn elf of the worse kind.  
  
***  
  
A bird sang out in the distance. 'I guess that means we're nearly there' stated Aragorn. Legolas smiled. He was impressed by the rangers' ability to distinguish real birdcalls from those imitated by his people. Not a skill possessed by many humans. By way of confirmation the two travellers suddenly found their way blocked by three elves standing in their path, bows draw and aimed directly at Aragorn's head.  
  
'Friend or foe?' questioned the tallest of the three. The question was asked of Legolas yet was clearly about Aragorn. A man travelling with an elf looked suspicious in Mirkwood at the best of times, but when it was Prince Legolas himself, it wasn't any wonder that these warriors were apprehensive. 'Lower your weapon Demallion, he is no foe.' The warrior complied with the order and his companions did likewise.  
  
'You always did choose strange company Thranduillion, but a man?' said Demallion casting a disparaging look in Aragorn's direction. 'Yes, where did you find this one' asked another. 'Looks like you dredged him out of the swamp.' The three elves enjoyed the joke, not realising that the ranger spoke their language. Legolas quirked an eyebrow, he was going to enjoy this. 'What say you Aragorn?' he asked in his companion in the common tongue. 'Only that it was I who first found you in a swamp'. After their initial shock at discovering the man had understood their ridicule of him, they laughed heartily at the joke that had now been turned on to the prince.  
  
***  
  
The two travelling companions had set out again early the next day having spent the evening in the company of the small band of elves. By mid-morning they had reached a small farming community on the southern most border of Mirkwood where the king's business was quickly taken care of. By all account it was a good day, the weather was glorious, the humans had been most amicable and even the elf seemed to be content despite his initial reluctance to enter this land of men. It was after Aragorn and Legolas had said their goodbyes and were about to mount their horses to leave that the trouble began.  
  
Trouble took the form of a small band of horsemen who came galloping into the corral. They were an impressive looking group dressed from head to toe in black, gold-studded leather and long red capes that skirted the ground. Their faces were clean-shaven and their skin brown from exposure to the sun.   
  
They abruptly stopped their horses a few feet short of where Aragorn and Legolas stood showering them in with a cloud of dust. Aragorn shot them a glare as he brushed himself down, whilst Legolas expressed his annoyance with a few choice words in Quenyan, causing Aragorn to snigger. The combination of responses caught the attention of the leader of the new arrivals. He turned to the duo taking them in with an appraising stare.  
  
'You got something to say elf, then say it so we can all understand' he hissed with obvious distain for the noble being who stood before him. Aragorn cringed, with Legolas injured as he was, and being outnumbered 6 to 1, the last thing they needed was to get into a fight. 'Peace, my friend, we do not desire trouble'. The leader now turned his attention to Aragorn, a wicked, and somewhat lopsided grin, crossing his face. 'Well, perhaps if you apologise to me and my friends for getting in our way, we might go easy on you.' Any hopes that Aragorn had for diffusing the situation were quickly dashed as the elf prince's voice was heard above the taunting laughter of the men that followed their leader's comment. 'I said that you were brainless idiots who were not fit to ride mules.'   
  
A dozen pairs of angry eyes shot towards the elf. 'Obviously your friend does desire trouble' the leader growled at Aragorn whilst keeping his eyes locked with those of Legolas. Aragorn sent Legolas a pleading look but it went unseen and unheeded.   
  
'I do not like elves' spat the man. 'You think you are so much better than us mere mortals don't you?'  
  
'It is as nature ordained' replied the elf matter of factly.  
  
'Show him who's better Teremoth' came a shout from the rank of men, quickly followed by murmurs of approval from his comrades. The man they called Teremoth faced the prince square on as he issued a challenge 'You will meet me here in one hour with your choice of weapon, we will soon see who is the better.' With that he turned his back on the elf and headed off towards the nearby buildings swept along by his entourage of cheering men.  
  
Aragorn and Legolas watched them go. 'Well that was dumb' said Aragorn.   
  
'Indeed it was' replied Legolas, 'it is not wise to challenge the Eldar'.  
  
'I wasn't referring to him' answered the ranger.  
  
***  
  
A short while later, Aragorn approached Legolas as he sat honing his long white knives. 'Where have you been' enquired the elf on sensing rather than seeing the ranger standing behind him. 'Trying to negotiate our way out of this. Unfortunately, Teremoth is just as bull-headed and prideful as you. Nothing but your royal blood will appease him'. Legolas glared at him angrily until Aragorn answered the hidden question. 'No, I didn't tell him who you were.' Legolas turned back to the task at hand. 'Good. I will have the satisfaction of letting him know who ended his miserable life, just before I slice his throat.' Aragorn rolled his eyes. 'And the fact that your right arm is nigh on useless just now won't stop you?' Legolas leapt to his feet and faced Aragorn square on. 'Would you like to discover the folly of that statement?' he snarled bringing up the point of his knife to Aragorn's ear. Aragorn sighed in resignation. 'I'm only concerned that you return to Mirkwood in one piece.' Legolas smiled and sheathed his knife. 'You're only concerned that you won't have to tell my father that I have been killed by a man.' Aragorn laughed 'Now that does concern me'. He grasped Legolas by his good shoulder in mock seriousness 'Don't kill him unless you have to, or we'll both have to face Thranduil and tell him why war has been declared on Mirkwood, and worse, why he won't be getting the new season's supply of wine.'   
  
'Now that does concern me' came the reply.  
  
A few moments later the pair saw Teremoth emerge from the building that served as the local hostelry. 'Here they come' stated Aragorn needlessly. Legolas nodded and fixed his eyes on those of his foe, even before Teremoth was close enough to return the stare. 'Are you ready to die elf?' the man asked as he came to halt a few feet in front of Legolas. 'It is not I who will cross the threshold of death this day' replied the elf. His challenger smirked as he took up his chosen weapons, a club in his left hand and a flail tipped with 2" spikes in his right. Their crude form offset all the more by the elegance of the elf's own weapon, a single long knife which balanced almost delicately in his left hand. Teremoth laughed again at this pathetic gesture as he confidently began to circle his foe. The onlookers stepped back to give the opponents room, and to protect themselves from ending up on the receiving end of a stray blow.  
  
'Your friend tells me you are already injured elf' Teremoth said menacingly. Legolas held off the temptation to turn his attack onto the ranger for the folly of imparting that bit of information to his enemy. Teremoth continued to taunt the elf; 'I could go easy on you, just kneel at my feet and admit that you are a feeble worm who doesn't deserve to lick my boots.'  
  
'My friend is mistaken' replied the elf pointedly.   
  
'Well no matter' said Teremoth, 'you soon will be'. With that he leapt forward swinging the flail towards Legolas' head. The elf ducked effortlessly out of the way and came up behind the man momentarily disorientating him. Despite having gained the advantage, Legolas did not attempt to strike his foe physically, 'It is you who will soon be wounded if you insist on fighting like a old maid'. The two continued to circle each other, psychologically preparing for the next engagement. Again it came from Teremoth, this time he levelled the club at Legolas' knees causing him to jump higher than any man would be capable of to escape the blow. As he landed the flail once again descended this time narrowly missing the elf's midsection. Teremoth wasn't so lucky, a flash of the elf's blade saw the man's arm sliced just above his wrist resulting in a spurt of fresh red blood. The man had now lost the ability to speak coherently producing only animalistic growls as he continued the attack.   
  
From the sidelines, Aragorn watched in admiration of Legolas' fighting skill. To any ordinary observer, the elf was on top fighting form. If anything he was holding back, obviously conscious of their earlier discussion about not killing the man unnecessarily. Aragorn was just beginning to think he had been worried without cause when the inevitable happened.  
  
Legolas had backed away from Teremoth, as he span towards him swinging the flail in front of him like a hammer thrower, until he found himself surrounded on three sides by Teremoth's men. With nowhere to go the only route of escape was up and over, which he took, diving over Teremoth's head to land in roll on his other side. Although the manoeuvre lacked nothing in grace, the landing placed pressure on Legolas' weakened shoulder and the already stretched muscles gave way popping his arm once again from its socket. The pain of this action momentarily paralysed the elf giving Teremoth enough time to reposition himself and bring the club down on the ailing elf's head.  
  
His weapon never met its mark. Instead it struck steel as where there had previously been space between the opponents stood the ranger, sword raised to defend the elf. 'No.'  
  
Teremoth was angered by Aragorn's action. The two stood in gridlock weapons pressed against each other neither willing to give ground. 'How dare you interfere? This fight does not concern you' growled Teremoth through gritted teeth. 'He is my friend and what happens to him does concern me greatly' replied Aragorn putting all his strength behind his sword. 'But are you willing to die for him?' Teremoth pulled back his club causing Aragorn to stumble forward into the crowd of men. They pushed him back towards Teremoth who was now swinging the flail above his head and getting dangerously close to Aragorn. '...Because die you will'. Aragorn looked around for escape, but like Legolas before him, he was hemmed in on all sides, yet unlike Legolas he lacked elvin agility and was unable to somersault out of the way. He gulped involuntarily and offered a silent prayer to the gods for his soul.   
  
Someone must have been listening. Suddenly the battle scene was filled with a dozen rearing horses, sending the company running in all directions in fear of their lives. The dust they threw up made it almost impossible to see. Then out of it emerged Legolas atop his own steed, he reached out a hand and pulled Aragorn into the saddle behind him and off they raced into the safety of the woods.  
  
***  
  
'Let me look at it, you stubborn elf'. Aragorn was getting annoyed. After their dramatic escape they had ridden for several miles until reaching the clearing where physical exhaustion and pain had forced them to stop. Legolas now sat leaning against a tree, his face pale and drawn as he supported his right arm against his body but obstinately refusing to let Aragorn come near to help. Aragorn tried to reason with him again. 'Legolas, your arm won't go back by itself. Look, your fingers are already turning blue. If you leave it too long, you might lose the use of your arm completely, then what would your father say?' The thought of his father's anger at losing one from the ranks of his archers convinced Legolas. He sighed. 'Very well - go ahead.' Aragorn knelt down beside Legolas. 'You do know what you are doing don't you ranger?'  
  
'I have seen it done before' replied Aragorn placing one hand against Legolas' shoulder and gripping his forearm with the other. 'On the count of three.'   
  
Three hurt. Not just Legolas by the wrenching of his arm back into its socket, but Aragorn too as the elf's left fist connected with the ranger's jaw. Legolas would later argue that this was a reflex action.  
  
Later as the two headed back towards Mirkwood atop a single horse, Legolas scolded Aragorn. 'That was a very foolish thing you did'.  
  
'You mean stepping between you and Teremoth? Yes, I suppose in hindsight it wasn't the most sensible thing I have ever done, but he would have killed you.'  
  
Legolas nodded in agreement. 'Yes I know Aragorn. Thank you.'   
  
'It is I who should be thanking you Legolas. I assume you did have something to do with the horses behaving as they did?'  
  
There was a moment of silence, before the elf spoke again. 'Actually Aragorn, when I said that was a very foolish thing you did, I meant...'  
  
'What did you mean?'  
  
'Well, you do realise you left the trade agreements behind?'  
  
Aragorn groaned. 'Will you tell your father or shall I?'  
  
Legolas appeared to contemplate this for a few moments. 'You can Aragorn. After all, isn't that what friends are for?'   
  
***  
  
AUTHORS NOTE  
  
I hope you have enjoyed reading this, my first fan fiction. I would very much appreciate your reviews. Thanks!!! 


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